


Grand Prix University

by Kinggeorgechan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Christophe Giacometti is a Good Friend, First Dates, Flirting, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Nervous Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont Uses Instagram, Professor Katsuki Yuuri, Professor Victor Nikiforov, Romance, Sexy Katsuki Yuuri, Social Media, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, VictUuri, Wingman Christophe Giacometti, Wingman Phichit Chulanont, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinggeorgechan/pseuds/Kinggeorgechan
Summary: Yuri Katsuki abandons his dream career as an erotic novelist and begins working as an adjunct professor at Grand Prix University’s Modern Languages Department. There, he meets Victor Nikiforov, a Russian literary scholar who considers his work his only successful relationship. As their bond develops, they slowly learn to follow their hearts rather than their fears, rediscovering life and love along the way.***Rating will change as the work progresses******Updates on Friday, every two weeks***





	1. Unfashionably Early

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucycamui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/gifts).



> The one where Yuri messes up, and Victor finds a silver lining.
> 
> Thanks for embarking on this fanfic journey with me! It'll be a wild ride, but well worth it in the end (fingers crossed!)
> 
> Feedback always welcome, so comment away! 
> 
> Planning to update every two weeks (or at the VERY LEAST once a month), but please be patient with this tired-ass law student. I have half of this series written out, and barring some crazy circumstance, I WILL FINISH WHAT I STARTED. Hold me to it!

Victor sat in his office, gazing out the window, observing the first few rays of autumn sun filter through the leaves of the oak tree outside. He relished these moments of peace. It was rare to have his office to himself. When his colleagues weren’t around complaining about the department chair’s temper, his students would pop in and out, one after the other, vying for a chance to get close to their tall and handsome Russian professor. Today, he was alone.

Victor had spent the previous year on sabbatical, living in St. Petersburg to do research with other experts on 19th Century Russian literature. In his short career in academia, he had gained enough respect to receive invitations from both national and international universities to appear as a speaker or guest lecturer. A few years ago, the hiring committee for Grand Prix University’s Modern Languages Department heard about Victor’s growing prestige. Yakov Feltsman, the chair of the department, offered him a tenured position, which he happily accepted.

Now entering his fifth year at GPU, Victor expected to return to the familiar campus relieved; instead, he felt an ineffable emptiness. He had only been a professor for eight years, yet he felt that he had accomplished everything he ever could. He felt that he had reached his limit. He couldn’t surprise anyone anymore. Despite being one of the most popular professors among the students, and despite the friendships he had fostered in the university, something was missing.

After a few minutes lost in thought, Victor spun his chair around, positioned his hands over his keyboard, and continued working on his literary critique. His focused clacking was interrupted by a soft knock. He looked up to see an unfamiliar face peeking out from behind his half-opened door.

“Excuse me, Professor Nikiforov?” The stranger, out of breath, took a few timid steps into Victor’s office. “I’m here for the faculty meeting. Where is everybody?”

Victor stared at the stranger. He wore khakis and a black sweater vest with a wrinkled white collared shirt underneath. He looked like a typical academic, adjusting his blue-framed glasses and sporting a standard brown leather briefcase with clear signs of wear-and-tear from years of use. Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest dresser, but he was cute, Victor thought. Based on his disheveled hair and the droplets of sweat on his forehead, he suspected that the stranger had overslept and sprinted to campus.

“I’m afraid you’re a day early. Faculty meeting isn’t until tomorrow.” Victor could see the stranger tense up nervously at the realization. “I know we’re supposed to be punctual, but you’re showing some real dedication!” He teased, trying to resist the smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.

The stranger clutched his briefcase tighter, feeling his face redden from embarrassment. He knew he should have double, no, triple checked his calendar before rushing over.

“Ah, well, then I guess I should head home then. Sorry for the intrusion.” The stranger gave a quick bow and turned for the door.

“Wait!” Victor exclaimed, standing up out of his seat. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He extended his hand in a friendly gesture. “I’m Victor Nikiforov. I teach Russian literature.”

The stranger turned around, and Victor flashed a heart-shaped smile awaiting his response. He hesitated a moment before finally shaking Victor’s hand.

“I’m Yuri Katsuki, the new Japanese adjunct professor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Katsuki. Since you’re here already, maybe I could show around?”

“Umm, sure, that would be great.”

Yuri smiled shyly, relieved that his timing error hadn’t made a bad impression on his new colleague. Unfortunately, this relief was short-lived. While Yuri could tell that Victor was good-looking from behind his desk, that fact was even more obvious now that he was standing and eagerly making his way toward him. Victor looked statuesque: sharp Eastern European features, light blue eyes, and platinum hair. He wore tailored slacks that hugged the curves of his ass and a form-fitting light-blue collared shirt that probably pushed the limits of appropriate office wear. Yuri’s nerves returned tenfold, and he was suddenly acutely aware of his appearance. Victor was gorgeous, and Yuri was a hot, sweaty mess.

“Come with me.”

Victor lightly placed a respectful hand on Yuri’s back, inviting him to walk alongside him. The gentle touch sent chills down Yuri’s spine, but he pushed aside any intrusive thoughts as he followed Victor for a grand tour.

The Modern Languages Department was located on the fifth floor of University Hall. Each department had its own corner of the building. Faculty offices lined the edges of the quadrant, and couches, chairs, and tables were scattered in the middle of the open space as a common area for students and professors to work and interact. Victor showed Yuri the ins and outs of the department, from “the only functioning copy machine on the floor” to “best place to find some goddamn peace and quiet.” Yuri followed along and listened happily as Victor went on telling stories about department shenanigans. Apparently, there was a vicious manhunt to find the fiend who kept changing the channel on the faculty lounge TV to competitive figure skating. Recently, they’ve also been perplexed by the influx of students who have chosen the department as their new preferred place to study. The answer to both questions was, of course, Victor.

“So, tell me about yourself, Yuri.” Victor turned to his companion as they made their way outside through a set of glass doors.

“Umm, well, uh…” Yuri was flustered for a moment, not expecting Victor to call him by his first name. “What would you like to know?”

“For starters, where are you from and what brought you to GPU?” The two turned the corner to a small garden concealed by a wall of tall hedges.

“Well, I’m originally from Japan. I came to the U.S. for college to study English literature, actually. I got sucked into the Japanese curriculum and ended up getting a Ph.D. in that instead.” Yuri looked over at Victor, who was listening intently.

“Is this your first year teaching?”

“I taught classes during my Ph.D. program, but nothing beyond that.”

“I see. So, why GPU?”

“I’m close to one of the professors in the Theater Department, and he told me about the open position, so I applied.”

“Ah, boyfriend?” Victor said with an arched brow and a teasing smile.

“It’s not what you think!” Yuri stopped abruptly, shaking his head and waving his hands in denial. Yuri was fairly inexperienced in that arena of his life; although he would be lying if he said he hadn’t checked Victor’s hand for a ring. He looked at his hand again just in case. All clear.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Victor laughed. He almost felt sorry, but he enjoyed Yuri’s nervous and flustered reaction too much to feel any real remorse. “So, what were you doing before you got this job?”

Victor lead them to a wooden bench and took a seat. Composing himself, Yuri sat down next to him, taking care to keep some professional distance between them.

“I used to write. Books, mostly.” Yuri said shyly. “They weren’t great.”

Victor could tell that Yuri wasn’t trying to be modest. In fact, it almost seemed like he was ashamed. Sensing Yuri’s mood shift, Victor smiled in an attempt to cheer him up.

“I’m sure they’re incredible! I’d love to read them some time.”

“They’re really not any good,” Yuri looked down at his feet, hoping that Victor would drop the subject.

“Good enough to be published, and good enough to get you here.”

The dejected Yuri looked up at Victor, who was still smiling, not as brightly, but sincerely. Yuri gave a half smile back and uttered a weak thank you.

“What about you? How long have you been teaching here?”

“I started five years ago, but it feels like a lifetime.”

“Do you enjoy it? Being a professor, I mean.”

“I do.” Victor looked up at the sky, powder blue. “It was hard at first. During my first year here, I used to come out and sit on this bench after my classes. I wanted my students to fall in love with literature the way I did, so I would sit here thinking of crazy ideas to make them love Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky,” Victor chuckled, “but then I realized that literature doesn’t work like that. I can’t force anyone to love literature. Literature speaks for itself. It swallows you whole, and when it spits you back out, you’re a different person with a different view of the world.”

Yuri understood well what Victor meant. You can’t make someone love something. Yuri had spent his entire career trying to make people love his work. He was no Dostoyevsky, but he had talent and a niche community of readers he wanted to reach. Unfortunately, Yuri’s anxiety had gotten the better of him, and after a few rejections from big publishers, he decided to take an indefinite break from writing despite his editor Celestino’s pleas.

“I worry about being a good professor too.” Yuri’s gaze remained on Victor. Watching the silver strands of hair flutter in the breeze was comforting.

Victor put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “The first year’s always rough. If you’re ever feeling unsure about something, I’m here to help.”

Victor smiled, and Yuri felt a sense of reassurance that he hadn’t felt in a while.

“I guess we should go find your new office.”

Victor stood up and offered his hand. Yuri took it, this time with less hesitation. It was a welcome warmth against the cool air. After Victor pulled him up, the two professors made their way back to the farthest corner of the department where they started.

“I guess we’re neighbors!” Victor said cheerfully, pointing at a black label on the door with bold white letters spelling out Yuri’s name.

That smile made Yuri’s heart beat so hard that he was almost certain even Victor could hear it pounding against his chest. He couldn’t tell if he was intimidated or attracted, but it was probably a mix of both.

“I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” Victor turned to walk toward his office. He stopped at his door and glanced back over his shoulder. “I look forward to working with you.”

Victor smiled again, but this time, with just one corner of his mouth upturned and his playful gaze resting on Yuri for a brief moment.

Yuri nodded and watched Victor disappear into his office.

_Was that a wink?_

_Did Victor just wink at me?_

It was probably his imagination, he thought. The lack of sleep and anxiety of starting a new position had made him delusional. There was no way that a man like Victor would wink at him or do anything even remotely flirtatious. Yuri shook his head to ward off any presumptuous thoughts of his new colleague. Once he brought himself back to reality, he started the walk back to his apartment.

Meanwhile, in his office, Victor stared out the window with an amused smirk on his face. Perhaps this new semester would be interesting after all.


	2. Wingmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where Chris lends a helping hand.
> 
> IN HONOR OF LOVE, here's the next chapter an entire day early! Happy Valentine's Day, especially to my ship of dreams #victuuri.

When Yuri finally returned to his apartment, he plopped down onto his bed, feeling gravity pull him heavy onto the soft sheets. What a morning, he thought. His anxious energy had left his body, and only exhaustion remained. He hadn’t slept well the past few nights. He had nightmares that he wouldn’t fit in with the other professors and worried constantly that his students would make fun of him for stumbling over his words. He wasn’t sure why he chose to pursue a career that involved public speaking, but teaching felt like a natural transition from writing, and truthfully, he had lost hope in his career as an author. Yuri tried to readjust himself, but the mattress was quicksand that had taken a firm hold of his limbs. Instead of fighting it, he surrendered to a long and well-deserved nap.

_____________________________

“Yuri!”

Yuri awoke to his neighbor, Phichit, knocking loudly on his door.

“I know you’re in there!”

Having known Phichit since college, Yuri knew that his persistent knocking would not stop until he finally let him in. Yuri stirred and forced his eyelids open, still heavy from fatigue. He pushed himself upright and straightened his glasses as he had a bad habit of falling asleep in them. Yuri hopped out of bed, walked to his living room, and opened the door.

“About time,” Phichit barged into the apartment with a bag of take-out. “I brought you some dinner. I figured you’d be tried after your meeting, but I didn’t think you’d be out cold all day.”

Phichit made himself at home on the couch and began opening boxes of Chinese food. Yuri sat beside him, still barely awake.

“What time is it?” Yuri asked groggily.

“It’s almost 6 o’clock.” Yuri had been napping for whopping nine hours straight.

“So, how was it?” Phichit asked.

Phichit Chulanont, or Professor Chulanont as his students and older colleagues called him, had been working as an adjunct in the Theater Department for one year. The previous year, he had fulfilled his dream of writing and directing a show in Thailand, and now it was his turn to, in his own words, “inspire the dreary youth.” He was Yuri’s best friend. The two international students were assigned as random roommates in college, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

“I was a day early to the meeting,” Yuri said as he split apart his wooden chopsticks and began digging in.

“Aha! I knew something was off when you said you had a meeting on a Sunday!” Phichit pointed his eggroll at Yuri before biting into it.  

“But it wasn’t all bad. I met another professor who was nice enough to show me around. Do you know a Victor Nikiforov?”

Phichit dropped the half-eaten eggroll on the ground. “Russian Victor?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Yuri asked through a mouthful of noodles.

Of course, Phichit knew Victor.

 _The_ Victor.

So respected that he won “Outstanding Professor Award” by popular vote five years in a row.

So beloved that not a single student missed his classes, ever.

So beautiful that campus security had to post signs saying “PAY ATTENTION WHILE WALKING” because so many pedestrians had gotten into accidents, distracted by his good looks.

“Lucky!” Phichit shoved Yuri with one hand, playfully, but with enough force to suggest that he was very much serious.

“What’s the big deal?” Yuri coughed, nearly choking on the noodles in his mouth. He took a big gulp of water before hitting Phichit back. “Is he famous or something?”

“He might as well be.” Phichit took his phone out of his back pocket and proceeded to scroll through pictures of Victor on Google: professional headshots, candid photos of him presenting at various events, and even personal photos of him and an adorable brown poodle lounging on a couch. “He’s definitely a campus celebrity. Everyone loves him.”

“Hmm…”

Yuri trailed off as he stared at a photo of Victor giving a speech behind a podium. He was wearing one of those brown tweed blazers with elbow patches sewn in. As nerdy as it was, Yuri thought the academic look suited him. He would probably look good in anything. He would probably look good in nothing. Yuri shook his head, stopping himself before his thoughts could betray him further. He refused to let a small crush devolve into some dirty fantasy. Yet, Yuri certainly understood why everyone adored Victor. He had only spent a couple of hours with him, and the man had already charmed his way into Yuri’s daydreams, and perhaps one day into his pants.

 _Stop, dammit._ Yuri cursed his vivid writer’s imagination and implored his mind to stop before it got a little _too_ creative.

Noticing Yuri’s agitation, Phichit leaned in and inquired, “Did something happen between you two?”

“What? Umm, no, not really. He was very friendly.”

Intrigued, Phichit pressed on, “Friendly how?”

“Well, you know, he offered to help me out if I ever needed anything. He was also…” Yuri struggled to think of the right word, “…handsy?”

“What? You mean like he harassed you? Do we need to file a report?”

“No! God, no. I just mean he seemed really…comfortable with me…” Yuri blushed thinking about each instance of contact between them. Handsy was probably a poor choice, but he didn’t quite know how to explain it. He was unaccustomed to Victor’s openness. He had never been good at first impressions or meeting new people, yet Victor didn’t seem to care. Instead, Victor met Yuri with a warmth that made him  _want_ to open up. He wanted to show Victor that he was more than just that first impression.

The red on Yuri’s cheeks deepened, and Phichit’s matchmaking senses began tingling.

“Okay, so what exactly did he do?”

“Well, he patted my shoulder, helped me out of my seat. Normal stuff…right?”

“Do _you_ think that’s normal?” Phichit raised a brow.

“Well…I don’t know…wouldn’t _you_ know? You’re friends, right?” Yuri asked.

“Nope, never spoken a single word to that fine man, but I do know Chris Giacometti. We teach in the Theater Department together. He and Victor go way back. Here, look.”

Phichit opened Instagram and scrolled down his feed to a post by _christophe-gc_. It was a picture of Victor and a bleach-blonde man, presumably Chris, wearing skimpy speedos, sitting on the edge of a swimming pool with sunglasses on and one leg raised high to the sky.

 _ **Christophe-gc** Dissertations brighter than your future. _# _tbt to grad school!_

Yuri forced back a smile. The picture and the caption were funny, but seeing Victor in a tiny speedo was the icing on top. Phichit clicked on the _v-nikiforov_ tag to access Victor’s page.

“Oh, look, he posted something a few minutes ago,” Phichit pointed out.  

The picture was a selfie of Victor in his office, smiling, his face half-bathed in warm pink and orange hues from the soft sunset outside his widow. Even digitally, that heart-shaped smile still made Yuri swoon. Phichit scrolled down to the caption, and upon reading it, Yuri abruptly snatched the phone from Phichit’s hand.

“Hey!”

Phichit protested, but Yuri ignored it, too preoccupied with the words on the screen.

Yuri read the caption again and rubbed his eyes for good measure.

Phichit looked over Yuri’s shoulder and gasped, “Oh. My. God.”

_**V-nikiforov**  All smiles because I met the cutest new addition to our department today. Maybe I’ll enroll in Japanese 101 ;)_

Yuri stared at the screen, unable to process the very suggestive post.

“The Russian gods must be watching over you. Either that or Victor’s really into the distressed professor look,” Phichit chucked, eyeing Yuri’s wrinkled outfit and messy bed hair, which, despite the fact that he had been knocked out for the past nine hours, was tragically his natural state. In other words, he _always_ looked like that, nap or no nap.

Normally, Yuri would have come back with a good-humored insult: maybe take a jab at the endless selfies on Phichit’s phone, or perhaps comment on his copious scarf collection with patterns that ranged from plain plaid to flashy rainbow cupcakes. This time, however, he could only muster a few sounds strung together incoherently.

“Wh—what, umm, he…wh—why did he...who…”

“He’s obviously talking about you,” Phichit reassured him.

Yuri knew that, but convincing himself that Victor _actually_ thought he was cute was like convincing Phichit that _The King and the Skater_ was a shitty movie.

“What do I do?”

“Beats me,” Phichit shrugged, mischief written across his face. “Looks like it’s going to be an interesting year for you, Professor Katsuki.”

______________________________________________________________________________

_30 minutes earlier…_

Victor shut his laptop and let out a deep sigh of triumph and relief. After the last sounds of Yuri’s footsteps had faded, Victor had continued where he left off, typing away to finish his work. He had a deadline looming, and Yuri’s appearance had distracted him, albeit in the best way possible. Can’t say no to an angel-faced sweetheart who waltzes into your office!

Once he had settled back in, Victor hammered out the rest of the critique and submitted it for publication. Victor rubbed his tired eyes and checked the time. It was nearly 6 o’clock. By now, the dog walker should have finished Makkachin’s second walk of the day. The sweet poodle would patiently await her owner’s return, and Victor could think of nothing better than to get home and cuddle with his favorite girl.

As he turned his chair around to grab his briefcase, Victor noticed the pastel sunset illuminating his office. Perfect lighting for a selfie, he thought. Victor was fairly active on social media, and although he kept his account private for professional reasons, he still had enough friends to form a loyal following. Someone had suggested quitting academia and becoming an influencer, but Victor politely declined. He was perfectly content with his amateur unsponsored photos, which consisted mostly of him and his pup.

After taking a few selfies, Victor settled on one that he thought resembled a watercolor painting. He thought perhaps he should post something about the “dawn of a new semester” or “so long sweet summer,” but before he could think of a caption, a blonde man in a black turtleneck and dark jeans swung the door open with wine and wine glasses in hand.

“Happy new school year!”

Victor put down his phone without posting the photo. “Chris, you know we’re not supposed to have alcohol in here.”

The admonition fell on deaf ears as Chris began twisting the cork off the bottle. It didn’t help that Victor was smiling and already reaching for a glass.

“Oh, please. Seung-gil has _at least_ five bottles of soju in his bottom drawer.” The two laughed as Chris generously filled their glasses. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“I was finishing up work. I got a little sidetracked.”

Chris took a sip of merlot and asked, “By what?”

“Cute new professor.”

Wine in hand, Chris sat down and leaned back comfortably on the plush navy couch in the corner of the office. “Oh, do tell.”

Victor grabbed his glass and smiled as he recalled his encounter with Yuri earlier that morning.

“He came in thinking that the faculty meeting was today,” Victor said amused. “He was a mess, but it was…endearing, maybe even charming? You should’ve seen him. He was out of breath, hair all over the place, and he was wearing this sweater vest—”

“A _sweater vest_?” Chris laughed, both appalled and amused at the notion of any modern-day man unironically wearing a sweater vest.

“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” Victor brushed off the comment. “He was obviously panicked. I mean, the poor guy probably ran all the way here from god knows where. But, man, he had the cutest confused look on his face.”

“Possible love interest?” Chris swirled the crimson drink in his hand and raised an eyebrow. He was being facetious, but a big part of him really did want Victor to find love.

Victor and Chris had met in grad school, and years of friendship had taught Chris that his charming best friend had an abysmal dating record. As a grade-A hottie, Victor had his choice of men, but none of them interested him enough to last longer than three months. Sure, he would mess around, go on dates, even have an occasional one-night-stand, but the prospect of a long-term relationship had never crossed his mind. For years, Victor immersed himself in his career that he had neglected life and love. As his closest friend, Chris knew that Victor needed a touch of romance in his life. The problem was whether Victor himself knew.

Victor laughed and kicked his feet up on his desk, “Possibly, if you’re up for it.”

As Victor’s trusted wing man, Chris normally would have been more than “up for it.” Chris was responsible for most, if not all, of Victor’s escapades for the past ten years. He had proudly taken credit for the good, the bad, and the ugly—literally. In recent years, however, he had been more careful about introducing men to his beautiful friend because after Victor grew tired of the relationship, Chris would be left to clean up his mess and take the blame. Victor was a nice guy. He was a caring and loyal friend, but he approached dating too methodically for his own good. Victor had always chosen his career over his relationships, and he cut through his romantic ties like a fine, sharpened blade. Victor, who was normally warm and understanding, could turn uncharacteristically cold when anyone got in the way of his work. The duality scared Chris and made him grateful that he was only capable of seeing Victor as a friend. “Sorry I made you fall in love with a workaholic sex god with commitment issues” was a line he had secretly said in his head on multiple occasions after Victor’s break-ups. So, although he enjoyed the honored title of being Victor’s wing man, he wanted to be more cautious this time around.

“Depends. Who is this mystery cutie?” Chris inquired.

“Yuri Katsuki. New adjunct professor.”

Chris pressed his glass against his lip pensively.

A new professor. Someone Chris didn’t know on a personal level. Someone who wouldn’t come crying to him after a classic Nikiforov heartbreak.

 _Perfect_ , he thought.

“Yuri…hmm, that name sounds familiar…”

“Come to think of it, he did say that he knew someone in your department.”

“Oh, right! Phichit was telling me about him!”

“Phichit? You mean the guy with hamsters in his office?”

“Yup, that’s the one. I ran into him over the summer, and we talked over coffee.”

“What did he say about Yuri?” Victor tried not to seem too eager, but he needed to learn more about his new colleague, especially if he wanted to make a move.

“Well, they met in college. I think he used to be a writer. He went by an alias, but Phichit wouldn’t tell me what is was. Apparently, it’s a touchy subject.”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem happy to talk about it.”

Victor recalled Yuri’s reaction when they talked about his writing. He sensed him withdraw back into himself. It was like a defense mechanism cautioning him not to ask too many questions. He didn’t understand why Yuri was so secretive about his past. Victor, too, had gotten his share of negative reviews and comments about his work, but nothing so terrible as to make him feel sad or ashamed.

“Hmm, an ex-writer with a secret identity and a dark past,” Chris mused. “Interesting. Shall we do some digging?”

Chris got up from the couch and made his way behind Victor’s desk as he took out his laptop. The two of them hunched over the screen as Chris typed “Yuri Katsuki” into the search box. The first hit on Google was an article Yuri had written on Japanese literature during the Meiji Period. Chris and Victor read through the abstract, and while it seemed like a perfectly decent article, it wasn’t exactly the scandalous discovery they had hoped for.

After scrolling through countless Yuri Katsuki Facebook profiles and a few more academic journals, Chris stumbled upon a link to a Sub-Reddit page titled _Eros Fandom_. Chris clicked on the link, which took them to a forum that only had a handful of subscribers. The two of them scrolled through some very heated and colorful discussions regarding what seemed to be a series of books that neither of them had read. There was some discussion about plot, character development, but more importantly…

“Oh my,” Chris chuckled, “it seems like we’ve inadvertently found ourselves on the dark side of the internet.”

The two fascinated professors read carefully through a thread of comments debating the author’s depiction of a very racy scene. Some found the writing “vanilla” and “uninspired,” quite unmoved by the author’s choice of the missionary position instead of something more experimental. On the other hand, some found it “refreshingly innocent” and “realistic.” One forum participant was particularly impressed by the author’s portrayal of emotions; not to mention the author’s description of one character’s—

“Erection,” Chris said out loud.

“What?”

Chris pointed to the screen. “I think this guy meant to type ‘erection’ instead of ‘election.’ Classic typo. I do it all the time,” Chris shrugged.

Victor, immune to Chris’ comments, noted the typo and continued reading.

“What does Yuri have to do with all of this?” Victor asked, growing slightly impatient of their wild goose chase.

“Maybe he’s secretly into erotic novels?”

Victor recommended that they use the word search feature. They probably should have done that in the first place, but Chris would never miss out on an opportunity to read about smutty fiction.

Chris typed Yuri’s name into the search bar. Only one entry came up. The post was captioned _Eros Meet and Greet_ , and below it was a picture of a man sitting behind a table signing copies of books. At first glance, Victor almost didn’t recognize him, but looking closely, he was certain it was Yuri—without his blue-framed glasses, dark hair neatly slicked back. Confused, Chris and Victor scrolled down to read the comments.

 

_| Eroticalover69: Got to meet Eros himself today!_

_| Coolguyricky: The man behind the magic!_

_|Eroticalover69: Such a sweetheart! He signed all my copies! Really hope he comes out with more material soon._

_|Coolguyricky: He’s on hiatus, so don’t get your hopes up.  
Btw, anyone else wonder what Eros’ real name is? _

_|weebteam9000: Might be this guy?_  
<http://www.facebook.com/yuri.katsuki>  
We have a mutual friend on Facebook, and I thought he looked really familiar.  
Also, how’d you get that photo? They never let people take pictures at his events…probably for privacy reasons since he’s basically writing glorified word porn.

_|Eroticalover69: WOAH that looks EXACTLY like Eros (a little dorkier though).  
Oh, I took a sneaky shot while security wasn’t looking ;)_

 

“Now _this_ is newsworthy.” Chris, satisfied with his amateur detective work, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back on the wall behind him with a giant smirk across his face. “I can see why he wanted to hide it. Not sure how Yakov would react knowing that the new hire has such a filthy repertoire.”

Victor didn’t know how to react either. Could it really be true that the adorable, easily-flustered, puppy-eyed angel that walked into his life that morning was an erotic novelist? Not that Victor was complaining. Truthfully, he was slightly—no, extremely—turned on by the idea. He liked the thought of seemingly-innocent Yuri having an alter-ego that orchestrated sex scenes in his head. Even better, he liked the thought of bringing Yuri’s fantasies to life. He wondered what sorts of steamy situations they could reenact, and even though Victor wasn’t expecting to sleep with Yuri any time soon, he made a mental note to stop by the bookstore and do some light _Eros_ reading in his spare time.

“Not quite what I was expecting when he said he used to be a writer,” Victor admitted.

“No, this is much better! Now you just have to figure out your first move…if you haven’t already made one.”

Chris was well aware that Victor’s charm could easily be mistaken for flirting. Indeed, there was a fine line between the two, and Victor enjoyed crossing it. Flirting was a game that Victor liked to play, and the beginning—the excitement of the chase—was his favorite part. Chris sometimes felt guilty for encouraging his behavior. Chris didn’t have the cleanest track record himself, but he knew better than to lead someone on, and he knew how to let someone down easy. Victor, on the other hand, could use a lesson or two about relationship and break-up etiquette.

A few years ago, Chris’ even sat Victor down for drinks to discuss his destructive tendencies, but any advice he gave, Victor met with a nonchalance that drove Chris up the wall. Chris continued to push, eventually hitting Victor’s last nerve. Six gin and tonics deep, and the argument had devolved into a drunken screaming match that resulted in the two men being escorted out by security. That was the one fight Chris and Victor had in their years of friendship.

After that, Chris was convinced that Victor needed to learn his lesson the hard way, and all he could do was be there for him when he finally does. In the meantime, he intended to continue playing the role of wingman and enjoy the ride while it lasted.

“Don’t worry, I was subtle enough,” Victor reassured. “Didn’t want to scare him away.”

“Well, maybe _Yuri_ would have been scared, but I’m sure _Eros_ can handle something a little...bolder,” Chris winked.

“What do you want me to do? Sit in his office naked?”

“I mean, if you’re willing—”

“Hard pass on sexual harassment,” Victor shook his head. “Give me another suggestion.”

“Fine. Give me your phone.”

Chris held out his palm, and Victor obliged. Chris took out his own phone and searched for Phichit’s number. He planned to text Phichit through Victor’s phone to get more inside information, but before he could get to Victor’s messages, the phone unlocked to reveal the sunset selfie Victor had taken before he barged in.

“And here I thought _I_ was the narcissist."

“What? It’s a good picture. It demands an equally good caption.”

Just then, Chris thought of a brilliant idea.

“Do you know if Phichit follows you on Instagram?”

“Umm, I think so.”

“Perfect.” Without further delay, Chris began typing a caption to accompany the masterful selfie. “Ta-da!”

Chris held the screen up to Victor’s face.

Victor read the caption, incredulous. “You really think that’s going to work? He’s probably not going to see it.”

“It’s Phichit. I’d bet good money that he’s on Instagram right now. He’ll _definitely_ see it, and once he does, so will Yuri.”

“Okay, so he sees it. Then what?”

Chris smirked and finished off what was left of his wine, “Then the next time you see him, you _personally_ make sure that he gets the message, loud and clear.”


	3. Crying Over Spilled Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where liquid courage comes in the form of a caffeinated beverage. 
> 
> ALSO, If you don't follow me on Tumblr and haven't already seen them, here are some incredible CH 1 artsss from Mari-or and Luna (AKA sweetest artists ever). I cry every time I see them ; o; 
> 
> Find them [here](https://mari-or.tumblr.com/post/182919018385/commission-for-kinggeorgechan-an-her-fic-grand) and [here](https://itspastelandsoft.tumblr.com/post/182958434160/commissioned-piece-to-kinggeorgechan-s-new)

The first Monday of the new school year brought a sense of renewed vitality. The campus buzzed with doe-eyed college freshmen and veteran seniors recharged from summer vacation and ready to take on another semester. Even Yuri could feel the energy. He felt good. He felt ready. 

The previous night, Yuri had made sure to sleep by 9 p.m. and set six consecutive alarms. He woke up feeling revitalized from the combination of his nine-hour nap and his restful sleep. That morning, he ran five miles, showered, and even ironed his clothes, which he only did on special occasions. Today was certainly no ordinary day; it was his first official day as Professor Katsuki, but also his first day seeing Victor after their chaotic meeting the day before. Yuri did not want to admit that he wanted to look good for a man. He thought it was far too cliché and desperate, and yet, there he was, ironing his khakis to please Victor. He even decided to ditch the sweater vest after Phichit’s tirade about how a man like Victor needed a partner to equal his GQ-worthy style.

More importantly, Phichit pointed out that Yuri needed to make a decision. Victor had made a move, and as much as Yuri insisted that it was some sort of joke that neither of them got, he knew that wasn’t the case. Accordingly, Yuri had two options: dodge Victor’s advances and establish professional boundaries, or flirt back and, as Phichit put it, “buy a one-way ticket to pound town.” Phichit suggested the latter. He also jokingly suggested that Yuri channel his inner Elle Woods and do the classic bend-and-snap. Yuri entertained the idea for a moment knowing that he had the ass to pull it off, but he also knew he wouldn’t have the courage or confidence to see it through. Instead, the two decided that it would be best to let things happen naturally. All Yuri had to do was look good, be his adorable self, and wait. After all, socializing, much less flirting, was not his strong suit.

After a short self-motivational pep talk in front of the mirror, Yuri made his way to campus, arriving with plenty of time to spare before the meeting. After entering the department, he walked toward the conference room, a large corner space with glass walls that gave him a full view of his new colleagues. He recognized Yakov from his interview, but the rest were yet unknown to him. He scanned the long table hoping to see a familiar silver-haired figure. No luck. As he reached for the door, he spotted an empty seat next to a black-haired man looking much too forlorn for the first day of school.  

“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you.”

Yuri jumped upon hearing the low whispery voice in his right ear. He let out a small yelp and turned his head to find Victor’s face mere inches away from his own. His blue eyes and heart-shaped smile overwhelmed his senses. Yuri could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and he looked away hoping that Victor wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Victor laughed. “I saw you eyeing that seat next to Georgi and thought I should warn you. He’s going through a breakup, and he’s not taking it well, so he’ll probably be sulking through the whole meeting.”

“Oh, umm, thanks for the heads up,” Yuri said, still red from the unexpected close-up encounter.

“You can sit next to me if you’d like. I snagged a spot by that corner over there.”

Before Yuri could say anything, Victor was already holding the door open for him. As they entered, everyone quieted down as Department Chair Yakov Feltsman called the room to order. Victor led the way and pulled out Yuri’s chair for him before setting his cup of coffee down and taking a seat.

“Good morning,” Yakov greeted the professors and stood in front of the room, tall and mean-faced. He was a dominating figure. “I hope everyone’s had a chance to look over today’s agenda. We can start with student feedback from last semester…”

Yuri quickly skimmed through the agenda: course schedules, curriculum planning, committee assignments. Nothing out of the ordinary. As Yakov droned on about evaluation results, Yuri’s gaze drifted over to Victor’s hands, the right one gently holding up the sheet of paper, the left one rested on top of his right forearm. His pupils traced the ridges of Victor’s knuckles, fascinated by the translucence of his skin. He was especially fixated on Victor’s ring finger, which, much to Yuri’s relief, still lacked a ring. After their first meeting, Yuri thought it had to be a fluke. Maybe he had forgotten his ring at home that day, or maybe he didn’t like wearing jewelry to work. Even after being so openly and obviously flirted with, he was certain that someone like Victor had received his fair share of proposals. Having the misfortune of being both a creative writer and a hopeless romantic, Yuri had a tendency to fantasize about proposals and marriage. He had scared off a few partners that way, so he learned to stop himself from getting too carried away or saying something reckless. This time, however, he allowed himself to indulge in the thought, letting the “what ifs” fill his headspace.

Victor looked over at Yuri, whose was gaze distant and smile faint. He looked beautiful, he thought. He wondered what he was thinking and whether he was thinking about him. Victor’s own mind had thought of nothing but Yuri since their meeting. He hadn’t dated anyone in over a year since he left for St. Petersburg, so perhaps the dry spell was starting to get the best of him. Still, it was unusual for him to take interest in someone so quickly. Victor was drawn to Yuri, and he attributed his fixation to mere timing.

Victor had come to the conclusion that Yuri came at the perfect time. Victor had returned from sabbatical hoping to regain the old spark he felt when he first started his career, but when reality fell short of his expectations, he began feeling what he could only describe as emptiness. He had survived all these years without a serious romance, but he couldn’t imagine a day without his work. Literature was Victor’s one love. It was his lifeblood, and feeling that passion burn out of him was almost debilitating. It made it harder to find joy in his work, and it made it harder to get up every morning and face a lecture hall full of students waiting for their professor to inspire them.

So, when Yuri walked into his office, Victor felt lucky. Even though inspiration was lacking in his career, he could distract himself with someone new until inspiration returned. At the very least, Yuri gave him something to look forward to.

_Then the next time you see him, you personally make sure that he gets the message, loud and clear._

Chris made it sound easy. As if mixing work and love was ever easy. Victor’s past experience had taught him otherwise, but maybe dating a fellow professor would be different. Surely, someone in the same profession would understand the demands of his work. Surely, he wouldn’t take it personally if he ultimately chooses work over love when the time comes. 

In any case, Victor decided that he would cross that bridge when (not if) he gets there. For now, he would take Chris’ advice and be bolder.

As the meeting continued, Victor nudged his notebook closer to Yuri and began writing discreetly on the top-right corner of the blank page.

_Hi._

Yuri snapped out of his daydream and forced back a smile when he read the simple message. He mirrored Victor, nudging his own notepad closer to him and writing back in response.

_Hey._

_Zoning out in your first meeting?_

Yuri blushed, slightly embarrassed that Victor had caught him. Thank goodness he couldn’t read his mind, which was filled with thoughts of marriage and domestic bliss.

_Was it noticeable?_

_I’m very observant._

It dawned on Yuri that Victor had been looking at him, just as he had been looking at Victor. As much of a wallflower as Yuri could be, he did enjoy the right kind of attention from the right kind of people. After all, he was hopeless romantic, and Victor with all his charm was the stuff of dreams.

Yuri recalled his conversation with Phichit, and even though they had agreed on letting Victor do the hard work of flirting and making moves, Yuri figured he had nothing to lose by being more forward. Victor had already made his intentions clear, so he had no reason to fear rejection. Reassured, Yuri wrote back.

_So, you were staring at me?_

The response took Victor by surprise. He turned to Yuri, who intentionally turned away and avoided eye-contact, hiding a playful smirk behind his fingers as he rested his chin on his hand. He left Victor to process the teasing question on his own, and Victor couldn’t help but admire his cheeky confidence. He was certain that Yuri had seen his Instagram post yesterday because nothing else could explain the sudden change in his demeanor. Once again, Victor would have to thank Chris for being the best wingman around.

_Couldn’t help it._

The two of them exchanged playful looks. Yuri bit his bottom lip to suppress the smile spreading across his face, and Victor wondered how exhilarating it would be to sink his own teeth into it.

Oblivious to Victor’s admiration, Yuri pressed on.

_Why?_

_Because _—__

Victor paused for a moment, his pen hovering over the paper. He wanted to tell Yuri that he was staring because he looked beautiful. To say anything otherwise would be a lie, but Victor didn’t want to push his luck too far. Instead, he settled for a softer truth.

_—I like your smile._

The massage made Yuri’s heart flutter. He didn’t know how to respond to it, just as he didn’t know how to respond to Victor’s suggestive post from the night before.

As Yuri looked down to hide the blush on his cheeks, Yakov proceeded, “Lastly, I want to welcome our newest faculty member. Professor Katsuki, please introduce yourself.”

No response.

“Professor Katsuki?”

Victor nudged Yuri with his knee under the table. Yuri looked up, confused.

“Professor Katsuki!” Yakov’s voice boomed.

It sent chills down Yuri’s spine and made him jump up from his seat. “Yes, sorry!”

“So glad you could finally join us,” Yakov said with a peeved expression. “Why don’t you introduce yourself for the rest of the staff?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Yuri felt the attention of the room shift toward him. Embarrassed, he felt the tension crawl up from the pit of his stomach and harden into knots in his stiff shoulders. He looked down when he noticed Victor moving his notebook closer and tapping his pen on a simple massage: _you got this!_

“Umm, hi, everyone. I’m Yuri Katsuki. I’ll be teaching the introductory and intermediate Japanese courses. This is my first year teaching, so I’m new to all of this. I guess you can probably tell…” Yuri laughed awkwardly to fill the silence, “but anyway, I—I haven’t really met a lot of you…but everyone has been really nice and welcoming so far…especially Yakov and Victo—”

When Yuri turned and swept his hand across the table, he accidentally knocked over Victor’s cup and spilled coffee on his white shirt. Victor immediately pushed himself away from the table and let out an audible “ouch” as the hot liquid seeped through the cotton and made contact with his skin.

“O—oh my god, Victor! I—I’m…I’m so sorry!”

Yuri shuffled around in his briefcase in a panicked search for a handkerchief, napkins, or really anything that could help him out of this mess. A few professors had already gathered around to offer help, fetching paper towels and wiping down the table.

“It’s okay, Yuri, I’m fine!” Victor smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “I’m fine, I promise. But I should probably get cleaned up.”

Victor excused himself and left the room, and everyone else returned to their seats after most of the coffee had been wiped clean.

Yakov sighed, irked by the unwanted commotion, “Moving on. Let’s finish up, then you’re all dismissed.”

Yuri quickly stumbled through the rest of his introduction, to which the room responded in a polite but lackluster applause. When meeting ended, Yuri walked over to Victor’s office, practicing his apology in his head. How many “I’m sorry” variations can he fit into one sentence?

Victor’s door was cracked open when he arrived, and he could hear shuffling coming from inside. He slowly pushed the door open.

“Hey, Victor, I came to apolo—”

Yuri choked on his apology. Quite literally. He could feel the breath being knocked out of his chest, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t say another word. Before him was Victor. A very shirtless, glistening, muscular Victor. Yuri had questions, lots of them: where was his shirt? Why was he wet? What exercise regimen does he follow to get such a sexy, sculpted body? Yuri looked away out of courtesy, fighting the terrible urge to stare.

“Oh, Yuri!” Victor smiled, unphased by the fact that his newest co-worker had just walked in on him half-naked. “I guess I didn’t close the door properly. You don’t have to look away for my sake. Please, come in!”

Yuri did as told and closed the door behind him. He kept his gaze on the ground, still trying to avoid gawking. 

“Sorry about all the water. I got some ice to help with the burn, but it all melted and made a mess.”

Yuri looked up and saw the red patch of skin on Victor’s abdomen.

“That looks like it hurts…”

“Oh, please. I’ve been sunburnt worse than this. Pale skin and the beach don’t go well together. Who knew?” Victor joked to ease Yuri’s guilty mind, but the look of concern on his face remained. “It’s nothing to be worried about, really.”

Yuri looked at the burn, feeling immensely guilty for his carelessness.

“Have you tried patching it up?” Yuri inquired. “If you don’t, it might get irritated.”

Victor smiled, admittedly touched by his concern. “No, I don’t think we have a first-aid kit in the department.”

“Wait here,” Yuri said as he left the office.

When he returned, he carried with him a small a white box with a red cross prominently pained in front. He sat on the couch with his first-aid kit beside him, and Victor watched as he carefully rummaged through the box and picked out what he needed: gauze, aloe vera gel, scissors, pain killers.

“Ah, so we do have one.”

“This is mine, actually,” Yuri corrected. “I was a pretty clumsy kid, so my mother always had first-aid supplies around. I guess I picked up the habit from her.”

Victor chuckled, thinking about young Yuri coming home with a slew of scrapes and bruises from an eventful day at the playground.

After neatly laying out his supplies, Yuri gestured for the Russian man to come closer. Victor obliged and sat down next to him. Yuri placed a hand on his shoulder and lightly pushed him back on the couch.

“Umm, It’s easier for me if you lean back,” Yuri explained. 

He watched as Victor followed his instructions and adjusted himself against the plush pillows. Victor pulled his legs apart to get comfortable.

“Like this?” Victor asked.

Yuri couldn’t help but stare at the inviting space between them. What he would give to be there, kneeling down in front of Victor instead of sitting next to him. What he would give to run his hands all over his abs and chest as Victor gazed down at him with hunger.

“Umm, yeah, good uh—” Yuri was at a loss for words. He did his best to play it cool, but if his stuttering and rapidly increasing heartrate didn’t betray him, his flushed face surely would.

Victor wasn’t oblivious to the situation. He was well aware that people found him attractive, and he was especially keen when the attraction was mutual.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Victor reassured. “It’s just a minor burn.”

“I—I know…but it’s the least I can do,” Yuri said adamantly.

So, without further protest, Victor stayed quiet and let Yuri work his magic. He watched as Yuri took a paper towel and patted his abs clean. He applied aloe on the affected area, running his fingers gently across the red blotch. He neatly cut and folded the sterile gauze and placed it flat over the burn, leaving enough space for the wound to breathe and heal. Yuri was earnestly going about his work, and Victor didn’t dare say a word to break his laser focus. He was almost flattered by the care and attention Yuri put into treating him.

Yuri, on the hand, was having an internal panic attack. If there was ever such a thing as “bisexual leaning toward men” panic, then that was certainly what Yuri was feeling. Sure, he could be cool and smooth on paper—he was an erotic novelist; flirting on paper was what he knew best—but _hot damn_ nothing in his life had prepared him for this. When he wiped the water from Victor’s abs, he could feel the icy droplets dripping down the ridges of his muscles. He almost offered to lick the water off (the man was thirsty in every sense of the word!) When he applied the gel, he could feel the heat radiating from the red mark on Victor’s skin. The electric sensation flowed from his fingertips all the way down to his toes and lasted even after he finished wrapping the burn. When he finished flattening out the gauze, his hands mindlessly dipped farther down until he reached the defined “V” just above Victor’s waistline. 

“Yuri, at least buy me a drink first.” Victor looked teasingly at the poor professor, who jumped back and whose cheeks reddened to the shade of a tomato.

“I’m sorry! My mind just drifted off. I really didn’t mean to!” Yuri wanted to bury his bright red face in his hands. Victor had caught him checking out and feeling up his perfect abs, and he had no excuses. If Victor hadn’t stopped him, who knows where his curiosity would have taken him.

Victor laughed, “You don’t have to apologize. I’m just messing with you.”

Yuri gazed up at him, face still burning from embarrassment, “Well…I still feel terrible. Let me make it up to you. I can pay for a new shirt or something…”

“There’s no need. You wouldn’t believe how many white collared shirts I have in my closet!”

Yuri ignored the joke and thought hard about what else he could possibly offer to make up for burning Victor with a scalding drink.

“…But…” Victor tapped his index finger to his lips pensively, “you _can_ buy me another coffee if your conscience is really gnawing at you.”

Victor winked, and Yuri began to suspect that Victor knew exactly what he was doing. There was no way he could have planned for Yuri spilling coffee on him, but had his wet shirtless-ness been staged? Had he known that Yuri would come to apologize and left the door open on purpose? Was this all a trap into which Yuri had so happily fallen? He ultimately decided that none of that mattered.

Victor was smooth. Very smooth. Maybe even too smooth. Phichit had warned Yuri to steer clear of fuckboys operating under the guise of Mr. Nice Guy. Yuri himself had his own horror stories of sleazy men at bars using sweet talk as an excuse to make inappropriate passes. As someone with social anxiety, he could often _feel_ the way people looked at him. When they ran their eyes up and down with unwelcome and lascivious stares, he would writhe under his own skin. He always felt uneasy and repulsed by it.

Here, however, he didn’t feel any of that. He didn’t feel uncomfortable or tense. He didn’t feel his usual flight instincts kick in. Instead, Victor’s carefree demeanor helped the conversation flow naturally. His presence was calming, and his charisma strangely exciting.

Yuri relaxed, feeling the worry melt away like the ice slowly pooling water on Victor’s desk.

“Alright, coffee it is,” he said, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“Good.” Satisfied with Yuri’s answer, Victor got up and walked back to his desk. He took out a striped shirt from one of his desk drawers and pulled it over his head. “It’s too bad you’re not wearing your sweater vest today. I could’ve borrowed it.”

“Oh, my friend said it was dorky, and I was trying too hard to look the part. I’m sure it would look better on you though. If you can make water look good, a sweater vest would be easy.”

Before Yuri could catch himself, it was too late. The compliment came as a surprise to both of them.

“Well, Yuri, I’m flattered,” Victor laughed and beamed with genuine astonishment. “Had I known you would be so forward, I would have insisted on dinner instead of coffee.”

Whether or not he meant it as a joke, Yuri did not intend to let the opportunity slide. Victor’s charm was emboldening, and his flirting lit a fire inside Yuri that moved like adrenaline through his veins.

“Well…” Yuri got up and walked closer to Victor’s desk. He raked his lashes up at him, stared with his brown eyes wide, and said with all the confidence he could muster, “then let me buy you dinner, and we’ll call it even.”  

Victor’s smile widened until his cheeks began to hurt. He never thought he could be so taken by a look. He loved that look. He couldn’t say no to that look. “It’s a date.”


	4. Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the first date.
> 
> Thank you for the love and support you've given this fic <3 I love reading your comments and feedback! THEY KEEP ME GOING! 
> 
> Heads up, I have a big exam coming up next week, so I'll be posting the next chapter preview and the next chapter two weeks late! If you're curious about law school and want to know more about my life as a law student, read on. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> So, the exam I'm taking next week is called the Multistate Professional Responsibility Examination (MPRE). It's basically a multiple choice ethics exam that you have to take to pass the bar. Everyone has to take it, and it's a major pain in the ass tbh, but learning professional rules is an important part of this profession, so *shrugs*
> 
> Anyway, feel free to chat on Tumblr if you want to hear more about that exciting part of my life LOL.

“Aren’t you going a little overboard?”

“What makes you say that?” Victor walked at a slow pace on the sidewalk, taking his time to let Makkachin sniff and explore and she pleased. He precariously sandwiched his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he juggled Makkachin’s leash in one hand and a large bouquet of flowers in the other.

The call with Chris began two hours ago when Victor entered the flower shop a few blocks from his condominium. He called asking for help picking out the perfect arrangement.

“You just spent two hours at the florist, and now you’re going grocery shopping to cook for him on the first date.”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

“Chéri, you’re as romantic as you are straight.”

Victor feigned offense, gasping as if appalled by the comment, “Chris, you wound me. I happen to be very good at romantic gestures.”

“Being good at romantic gestures doesn’t make you a romantic.”

“Oh? What’s the difference?”

Chris sighed. He didn’t want to take the time to explain that romantic gestures, if done for the wrong reasons, could be wholly superficial and insincere. Victor could cook and buy as many expensive bouquets as he wanted, but if he couldn’t put his whole heart into a relationship, he had no real basis for calling himself a romantic. If Victor couldn’t recognize that fact on his own, he was incorrigible.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. My point is, you’re doing a lot for the first date. Aren’t you worried you’re going to give Yuri the wrong idea?”

“And what idea is that?”

“…That…you’re serious about him.”

Victor stopped in his tracks. Makkachin whined as she was pulled back on her leash. Victor hadn’t thought about what his intentions were with Yuri. In fact, he had never done that before with anyone. Chris had every right to assume that Victor wasn’t looking for anything serious. For all his past relationships, Victor always expected the affection to fade naturally and his career to take precedence. It was his default mindset, one that he had never thought to correct.

Chris’ question made Victor uneasy, but it wasn’t because the question surprised him. In fact, Chris always questioned Victor’s intentions when he started dating someone new, and Victor always fell back on the same response: he was looking to have fun. Now, the question remained the same, but for the very first time, Victor hesitated to answer.

___________________________

_Later that night…_

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Yuri sighed, staring hopelessly in front of his mirror holding a cream shawl-collared sweater in one hand and a navy quarter-zip in the other. “Which one looks better?”

“Hmm, don’t you have something a little…sexier?” Phichit observed from the edge of Yuri’s bed.

After helping Victor clean up the water and paper towels, Yuri locked himself in his office and immediately texted Phichit that he “may or may not have” just asked Victor Nikiforov on a date. No more than five seconds after sending the message, he received a call from Phichit, asking him to spill the details and offering to help him get ready for the date as any good wingman would.

“We’re going to dinner, not a club.”

“Yeah, I get that, but Victor sees you in this stuff all day at work. Don’t you want to show him something different?”

“Ugh,” Yuri groaned. And tossed the sweaters in a pile of rejected outfits in the corner of his room. “This is hopeless. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what _he_ expects.”

“Hot single guy in his thirties? Either he’s ready to settle down or he just wants a piece of that Katsuki ass.”  

Yuri shot his friend a stern look. Yuri wondered if Phichit would ever quit making crass comments. Not that he was particularly bothered by it, but sometimes he marveled at how he had managed to last this long in such a formal profession.

“Relax, I’m kidding. He seems like a sweet guy. I’m sure it’ll be a fun, perfectly normal date between a literary genius and a retired erotic novelist.” Phichit shrugged. 

“First of all, I’m not _technically_ retired. Celestino told the publishers that I’m taking a break. He’s convinced I’ll make a comeback, get some new wave of inspiration or something.”

“Yeah, a wave named Victor,” Phichit said teasingly as he winked. “He’s into you, and you know it.”

As dense as Yuri was when it came to relationships, he at the very least did know that 

“Phichit, what if…” Yuri paused, turning to Phichit with dread spreading across his face. 

Concerned, Phichit sat upright. “What if what?”

“What if…he tries to kiss me?”

Phichit rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Yuri. “You’re a grown man. You can’t seriously be _that_ terrified of a kiss?”

“I am! You know I’m not good at this. Remember the last guy?”

Yes, Phichit did remember. Vividly. Because he was there. The entire time.

A very anxious Yuri had asked his most trusted friend to follow him on his date with a man now remembered as “tongue dude.” After finishing a painfully boring dinner, tongue dude walked Yuri back to his apartment. Phichit clandestinely followed behind. Upon reaching the apartment, Yuri thanked tongue dude and turned toward the door hoping for a fast escape, but before his keys could reach the locks, tongue dude leaned in for a kiss. Feeling bad for the guy, Yuri obliged with a small peck. Unfortunately, tongue dude would not settle for an innocent kiss and pushed his tongue into Yuri’s mouth. Startled, Yuri bit down hard in a defensive knee-jerk reaction. Tongue dude shrieked and pulled away as blood dripped down from his mouth. He left cursing unintelligibly, pressing his bleeding tongue against his shirt sleeve.

“He deserved it if you ask me.” Phichit got up from the bed and began rummaging through Yuri’s closet. “Plus, Victor’s a classy guy. He’s not going to force his tongue down your throat on the first date…unless you want him to.”

“…Well…”

Phichit immediately turned to him. “Oh my god. That’s _exactly_ what you want, isn’t it?” 

“…Maybe…”

“Wow. Yuri Katsuki putting out on the first date? Unheard of.”

“I’ve never liked anyone enough to do anything after the first date.”

Awkward physical contact, poorly timed jokes, and the occasional dine-and-dash. Yuri felt like he’d lived every first-date nightmare in the books. Not surprisingly, those dates ended with forced hugs or cold handshakes instead of sex.

“How do you know you’re going to like him enough to sleep with him tonight? You’ve only known him for, what, two weeks?”

Apart from the fact that Victor was gorgeous beyond his wildest dreams, Yuri thought they got along well. He felt a spark, and maybe, just maybe, he thought Victor felt it too. Sure, two weeks was admittedly a short time, but Yuri had taken past partners to bed sooner than that. Hell, he’d even entered relationships and gotten his heart broken in a shorter span of time. He’d been through the worst, he thought, so really, he had nothing to lose.   

“Well, I really like spending time with him.”

“You’ve been spending time with him?”

“We’ve had lunch together.”

“How many times?”

“A few…” Yuri hesitated, “well, more like…every day.”

Phichit paused what he was doing and dramatically turned his head toward Yuri. “You mean you’ve been having lunch with Victor every day since you’ve started working?”

Yuri nodded sheepishly, face turning red. 

“Wait, is that why you keep dodging my texts when I ask you to get lunch with me?”

Yuri nodded again, trying to avoid Phichit’s glare.

“I’m hurt. Offended. Appalled, even. _But_ ,” Phichit continued, “it’s Victor Nikiforov, so I’m going to let it slide.”

“Umm, thanks?” Yuri didn’t know how to respond. Yes, he probably should have told Phichit about his lunch dates (if you can call them dates), but things were going well, and reporting every little detail to Phichit was the last thing on his mind. 

“So, you like spending time with him. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. It just feels so…easy. Like, I don’t really have to try, you know?”

“If it’s easy, then I don’t see why tonight would be any different.”

Phichit was right. He usually was when it came to these things. Phichit liked to push Yuri out of his comfort zone, whether it was in his writing or his love life. Even when things didn’t work out, as they often didn’t, Phichit always had Yuri’s back, ready to come over with a glass of wine, an open ear, and a shoulder to cry on.

“You’re overthinking it. Just let things happen on their own. But if we’re going to get you ready for some action, you should at least dress appropriately. Here, wear this.”

Phichit handed Yuri a black high-neck shirt he dug up from the depths of Yuri’s closet. It was a shirt that Yuri had purchased when he published his first book as Eros. He figured that if he was going to adopt the name, he needed to build the persona to match.

“…This is see-through,” Yuri pointed out the obvious.

“I prefer the term ‘sheer,’” Phichit said mischievously.”  Don’t worry. It’ll be dark, and you’ll be wearing a coat. He won’t be able to tell unless he gets close enough. And at that point, what you’re wearing won’t really matter.”

Yuri sighed, knowing that Phichit was probably right. If he wanted _that_ kind of night with Victor, he needed to go out with guns blazing. Not that he was expecting anything beyond a nice dinner and maybe a goodnight kiss, but if there was ever a night to prepare for the unexpected, it was this one.

“Fine.” Yuri put on the shirt, as well as a lightweight black coat with red lining that Phichit had tossed him. He examined himself in the mirror. While the shirt was undoubtedly sheer, the black material was just dark enough to make the cream color of his skin blend nicely into the fabric. Yuri wore his contacts and his hair slicked back, at Phichit’s request, of course. The black and red gave him an extra air of sensuality that boosted his confidence. Just then, his phone chimed.

Yuri glanced at the clock. “He’s early.”

“He’s eager,” Phichit teased.

Disregarding the comment, Yuri shoved his phone into his pocket and made final adjustments in the mirror. He took a deep breath and looked to Phichit for approval.

“Looking good! Now go out there and get some Russian dick!” And with those oddly inspiring words, Yuri was off.

_______________________________________

Yuri walked out of his building and almost tripped on air when he saw Victor, leaning against his cherry red Mercedes-Benz with a giant bouquet of exquisite blue roses, rivaled only by the cool blue of his eyes.

“Are those for me?”

“No, actually these are for my date. Maybe you’ve seen him around? Good-looking professor, blue glasses, usually wears a dorky sweater vest?”

Yuri laughed and blushed, realizing that this was the first time Victor had seen him in anything besides his usual professor get-up. “Too much? I can go back in and change if you want.”

“No, no, you look…”

“…Differ—”

“—Stunning.” Victor looked at Yuri, thin fabric stretched across his torso and coat draped effortlessly over his shoulders, adding definition to his lean frame. Yuri’s soft features stood out against the sharp lines of his tailored coat and the deep reds peeking out from under it. Yuri _was_ stunning, but he also looked more like Eros. With his hair back and glasses off, Yuri looked like the picture that he and Chris had seen two weeks ago. On his drive over, Victor thought about whether or not he should mention his alter ego. Ultimately, he decided that it would be best to let Yuri divulge that information on his own.  

Victor smiled and handed Yuri the flowers. “I wasn’t sure if people still do flowers on the first date, but the florist was very reassuring.”

“Flowers? Sure. Giant bouquets on the other hand…” Yuri’s joke, along with half of his face, was swallowed by the sheer size of the bouquet.

“Well, I don’t know much about flower arrangements, so after a few hours, I ended up getting the biggest one they had.” Victor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away for a moment to hide the blush spreading across his face.

Yuri laughed, amused at the image of Victor earnestly going about the task of picking flowers. It became clear to him that Victor had thought about this date as much, if not more, than he had. Unbeknownst to Yuri, Victor had thought about this date more than he would have liked to admit. He offered to take care of dinner plans, he offered to pick up Yuri from his apartment, and he arrived a good fifteen minutes early with over a dozen specialty blue roses after having spent his afternoon at the flower shop.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” Yuri smiled softly.

“I’m happy you like them. Ready?”

Victor opened the passenger door for Yuri, who ducked in and carefully placed the flowers in the back seat. After settling in, the pair drove off to their surprise destination, which Victor refused to disclose. Victor kept his hand on the gear shift, and it took Yuri all of his willpower not to reach across the center console and hold it. To keep his mind occupied, Yuri looked out the window. He noticed that they were driving away from the city. Odd, he thought, since most of the popular restaurants were in the opposite direction. After twenty minutes, Victor stopped the car on the side of a desolate road sitting at the bottom of a hill.

“We’re here!” Victor said as he popped open his trunk and exited the car.

Yuri stepped out and looked around. It was dark, except for the headlights that Victor had left on. Not a single soul in sight.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you brought me to this remote location to murder me?” Yuri said facetiously.

The possibility that Victor might actually be an American-psycho type didn’t seem too far-fetched considering his charm and good looks, not to mention the way he kept his office meticulously neat and organized. Yuri’s anxiety came with a dark sense of humor, and he thought that if he was going to die, doing so in Victor’s arms wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

Victor laughed, “I guess you could say this date is going to be killer.”

“Ah, so you’re a murderer, and your weapon of choice is bad jokes?”

“Yes, and it’s very effective. See, you’re already dying of embarrassment!”  

Yuri rolled his eyes, masking the fact that he was very much into cheesy puns, especially when layered with Victor’s subtle accent that could make reciting the alphabet sound sexy.

Victor pulled out a large wicker basket from his trunk, and the two made their way up the hill. As they approached the top, the whole city opened up, unfolding, glowing, and sparkling like a starry sky. What seemed like a small town for Yuri now seemed like an entire universe: vast and awe-inspiring.

Yuri had little time to take in the view before noticing a blanket neatly spread out across the grass, surrounded by candles that Victor was just beginning to light. Victor then pulled out a bottle of wine and containers full of rice and cuts of breaded meat from the basket. Yuri kneeled down on the blanket to help Victor set up.

“Is that katsudon? Did you make that?” Yuri inquired, his mouth watering at the sight of his favorite dish.

“Yup!” Victor smiled proudly. “I remember you told me it was your favorite! Plus, it was either this or sushi, and I didn’t want to risk giving you food poisoning.”

“As long as you promise to nurse me back to good health.”

Yuri surprised himself at how freely he felt to joke and flirt. He had even forgotten about the worries he expressed to Phichit. The past two weeks working with Victor made Yuri feel better—about speaking in front of his students, about engaging with his new colleagues, about himself. Even now, as they sat together assembling their bowls of katsudon, Yuri felt right at home.

The two of them enjoyed their meal, learning more about each other with each passing minute. Yuri talked about his family in Hasetsu. Victor talked about Makkachin and his travels. Both of them talked about their love for dogs and literature. By the time they had finished the bottle of wine, Victor had brought back a fluffy blanket from his car to shield them from the cool autumn night. The two of them huddled close, sipping on wine and looking out into the sea of lights.  

“Yuri,” Victor interrupted the comfortable silence, “I know this isn’t something you like to talk about, so please don’t feel like you have to answer, but why did you decide to stop writing?”

As they sat ensconced in the plush blanket, Yuri thought about the question.

Yuri’s writing reflected two things: his wants and his shortcomings. For Yuri, love had never come easy, but despite the heartaches and disappointments, he always chased after it. His writing reflected that struggle as plainly as it reflected his desire for romance. While his novels received mediocre reviews for their eroticism, they nonetheless spoke to the hopeless romantic in everyone. Much like him, Yuri’s characters wanted love, and that longing leapt out of the pages of his books and into the hearts of his small but dedicated fandom. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to please publishing companies.

“I’m not any good…and I guess I don’t know what to write about anymore.” 

“What do you usually write about?” The question slipped before Victor could catch his words. He waited in anticipation, wondering exactly how Yuri would explain the kind of writing he did.

“Umm…” Yuri looked down, noticeably avoiding eye contact. “I write about…love…I guess. Different ways of expressing it.”

That’s a clever way to put it, Victor thought. “What’s wrong with writing about love?” 

“It’s hard to explain. I know how to write about _wanting_ love, but I don’t know how to write about actually being _in_ love. So, I write about people trying to make love work, but most of the time I feel like I’m writing sappy stories with no substance. My books are just happy endings that don’t make sense,” Yuri sighed. “One guy at the publishing company said reading my book was like reading a desperate Nicholas Sparks.”

Unfortunately, Victor knew what that guy meant. By now Victor had finished reading _Be My Sex Coach_ , Eros’ first novel about a college athlete who falls in love with a porn star. While the characters were endearing and relatable in many ways, the prose took a turn for the worse during more intimate scenes. The problem wasn’t the sex, it was the way the sex was written. Yuri knew how to write about desire, he was right about that, but when the pivotal moment finally came, it felt like reading a scene from an amateur porno. Awful dialogue. Forced chemistry. No trace of love to be found.

From what Victor could gather from Yuri’s writing, he had trouble with the build-up. His literary prowess was at its peak when he wrote about one-sided pining, but anything beyond that fell flat of his potential. Yuri had his characters jumping from unrequited love to what seemed like an earnest but unsuccessful attempt at writing romantic and meaningful sex. It was no wonder why the story felt awkward and unrealistic. 

Yet, there was something there; something in Yuri’s writing captivated Victor, and he wanted to help the author harness that untapped potential. He wondered whether his weaknesses were a result of his own lack of experience, or whether it was some form of fear and self-censorship. He wondered whether Yuri himself had only been in one-sided relationships and questioned how that was even possible given how wonderfully sweet and beautiful he was. If only Yuri would open up to him about it.

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of writing, it’s that you _never_ take advice from someone who reads Nicholas Sparks.”

The joke brought out a chuckle and smile from Yuri.

“He’s not the only one who thinks my work is awful,” he said dejectedly.

“And so, you’re giving up on it?”

Giving up. Those words had occupied the back of Yuri’s mind for months, and yet he had never said them out loud. His leave from writing was always framed as a “hiatus” or “break,” but deep down he knew what those empty words truly meant.

“…I don’t know.” Yuri looked down, too embarrassed to admit what Victor had correctly surmised.

“Yuri, do you enjoy writing?”

“I do!” Yuri’s head shot up, ready to defend his passion for his work, which, despite it all, remained latent and burning within him.

“Then write.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. You’re a writer; it’s what you do,” Victor said, as if it were the most common-sensical thing in the world.

Had the comment come from any other person, Yuri would have been irked. Even though he had been writing professionally for years, he had always struggled with the process. The deadlines, the edits, the expectations. It was arduous, and yet, there was some truth to what Victor said. Writing took effort and dedication, but at the end of the day, writing was easy for Yuri because it was all he wanted to do. In that sense, returning to his writing would be the most natural thing for him. Unfortunately, Yuri lacked faith in his own ability to handle the pressure. Looking from the outside-in, his decision to pursue academia would seem like the easier, safer choice. For Yuri, however, that decision—the decision to turn away from his dream—was one of the hardest he had ever made.

“Plus,” Victor continued to push, “you’re a professor and a published author. You have the skills to succeed. Why can’t you make it happen?”

“Well...it’s not easy writing about something you don’t know anything about.”

“What do you mean? Like, you’ve never been in love?”

Yuri blushed and buried his chin further into his knees to hide his embarrassment. He said nothing, refusing to admit his romantic failures out loud. Yuri had dated other men before, but the fantasy always far exceeded the reality. Yuri suffered from a common condition that plagued many hopeless romantics: falling in love with the idea instead of the person. Yuri had high hopes each time he entered a relationship, and each time those expectations were not met, his anxiety took hold, telling that he was unloved and unlovable.

Yuri never responded, but his expression said it all. Victor paused for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“Neither have I.”

Yuri turned to Victor, surprised and slightly incredulous. “Oh” was all he could muster.

Victor laughed, “Does that surprise you?”

Yuri nodded. Of course, it surprised him. Men like Victor didn’t have relationship woes, at least not in Yuri’s mind.

“Have you…dated other people before?” Stupid question, Yuri thought. Of course, Victor had dated other people before. Countless, probably.  

“I have, but for better or for worse, I’ve dedicated most of my life to my work. Love just wasn’t a top priority for me.”

Victor tried to force a smile, but Yuri sensed a deeper pain that lingered in his words. His eyes were shades darker. The calm oceanic blue had turned into a stormy violet. Perhaps it was a reflection of the dark night, but they undoubtedly revealed a look of loneliness. Yuri recognized it instantly because he knew it all too well.

Yuri kept his empathetic gaze on Victor and asked, “What about now?”

The question brought Victor back to his conversation with Chris earlier that day. After he hung up the phone, questions ran endlessly thorough his mind: What _were_ his intentions with Yuri? Was he just another way to pass the time between writing articles and teaching? Another name soon to be forgotten? Instead of trying to answer them, Victor tried to suppress his thoughts.

A few hours ago, “uneasiness” and “discomfort” were the only words Victor could conjure up to describe how he felt about the prospect of a serious relationship. But being with Yuri ignited something in him. Perhaps it was the sincerity with which he spoke and wrote about love. Perhaps it was the way he gazed up at Victor with such longing and promise. Whatever it was, something about Yuri transformed those troubling emotions into something warm and wholly unfamiliar to Victor: affection.

With this realization, Victor smiled gently. He looked at Yuri, whose brown eyes reflected amber from the candlelight. He felt his heart melt into the warmth of his presence, and without a second thought, he said, “Now is different.”

Victor lifted his hand and ran his thumb across Yuri’s cheek, cold from the autumn air. His fingers traced Yuri’s jawline before stopping at the bottom of his chin, lifting his face up to meet his. Yuri looked down at Victor’s lips, slightly parted, before meeting his gaze again in invitation. Both leaned in closer and closed their eyes, touching foreheads and savoring each breath that brought them closer, inch by inch.

Yuri could feel the anticipation building inside him. He closed in until their noses accidentally touched, which drew soft laughter out of both of them. They blinked their eyes open and gazed at each other.

“Can I kiss you?” Victor whispered low into the sliver of space between them.

Yuri smiled shyly, which was all the consent Victor needed. Victor took Yuri’s face in both hands, cradling it as if something precious. Yuri closed his eyes as Victor leaned in, but to his surprise, Victor only grazed his lips briefly before tilting his head up to kiss to his forehead. And then his nose. And then his cheek. He lingered for a moment at each spot. Yuri could feel his exhales warm his skin and fuel his desire. He could smell Victor’s cologne as the light breeze carried the subtle and intoxicating scent. Never before had he wanted to kiss and be kissed with a fiery passion that made his heart ache out of want. Yuri’s patience had run its course, and without a second thought, he raked his hands through Victor’s hair and pulled him in for a deep, long and burning kiss.

For Victor, leaning into that kiss was like falling into a pool of honey, like sinking into pure warmth and sweetness. Yuri’s lips were soft and giving despite the initial force of the pull. The newfound affection he felt coursed through his body and made his heart flutter. Victor sighed into the kiss, deepening with breath. He loved the way Yuri ran his fingers through his hair, the way his soft, wet tongue brushed and tangled with his, the way he moaned softly with every caress. He could feel himself losing control, allowing his hands to roam the length of Yuri’s back. His fingers trembled as he tucked them beneath the hem of Yuri’s shirt and made contact with his skin. Victor attributed it to the cold, but truthfully, Victor was a happy mix of excited and nervous. He hadn’t felt nervous about intimacy since his first time as an inexperienced teenager in Russia. It was exhilarating in a way that was simultaneously new and familiar, and he relished in the heat building fast between them.

In an instant, the slow kiss turned into something more primal. Yuri didn’t know what came over him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the way Victor had handled him with so much care. He was too far gone, too engrossed in Victor’s touch to think straight. All he knew was what he wanted, and what he wanted was Victor. He kissed, and Victor kissed back. He pushed his tongue into Victor’s mouth, and Victor did the same. He wanted to know what else Victor would be willing to return.

The blanket had long since fallen off, exposing them to the cold air. Neither seemed to care, too captivated by each other to even notice. Yuri pushed himself forward, causing Victor to fall back on his forearms. He positioned himself between Victor’s legs, one knee pushing and grinding against Victor’s hardening cock. Yuri tore away from the kiss for a moment, savoring the sight of Victor, an absolute wreck beneath him: hair in shambles, lips red and plump, cheeks flushed. Yuri smiled triumphantly.

 _This boy is not innocent_ , Victor thought.

Victor barely had a chance to catch his breath before Yuri was kissing him again. There was a greediness and desperation to his movements. He tore open the first few buttons of Victor’s shirt and ran his hands across his firm chest. It was a contagious and uncontrollable desire. Each time Yuri’s knee brushed against his cock, his hips bucked forward, chasing after that delicious pressure. The heat of each touch moved through his body and pooled at the base of erection. Victor grabbed Yuri’s shoulders and pushed him away for a moment, giving him enough time unbutton and unzip his jeans. He turned his head in either direction to ensure that there would be no unwanted interruptions. He pulled his pants and underwear down, feeling a sense of relief as his cock sprang free from its restraints.

In front of him, Yuri had taken off his coat, the sheer material of his shirt even more apparent. Victor tried not to drool at the way Yuri’s semi-transparent shirt exposed the outlines of his lean body. Yuri slowly crawled toward Victor in all fours, stopping to give him a sweet, lingering kiss before undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Victor shivered from the cold air, but his focus was on Yuri, who was moving his lips slowly downward from his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. Yuri stopped just above his waistline and looked up at him.

“Condom?”

Victor looked confused for a moment, too fired up to comprehend the question immediately.

“Uh…” Victor smacked his palm against his forehead. “No. I didn’t bring any. I didn’t—well, I wasn’t expecting…this.”

 _Dammit_. Victor was usually prepared, but he really hadn’t expected to get hot and heavy on top of a hill, in the outdoors, no less.

Yuri pushed himself up to a seat and smiled as he watched Victor, clothes still undone, looking equal parts devastated and still very much turned on. He was kicking himself for that mistake, and Yuri found that oddly endearing. He couldn’t help but laugh, and after a second of confusion, Victor joined in, resigning himself to the reality that he would have to wait a little while longer to experience that side of Yuri again.

“I’ll be more prepared next time, I promise,” Victor said as he stood up to get properly dressed.

Yuri followed suit and slipped one arm at a time into his coat. “Bold of you to assume there’s a next time,” he joked.

“Of course, there is! You still haven’t bought me dinner to make up for spilling coffee on me. That guarantees me _at least_ one more date.”

“I see, so this picnic was part of a greater scheme to ask me out on a second date?”

“Astute as always.” Victor smiled and stepped forward to give Yuri a quick kiss on the cheek.

Yuri blushed, which Victor found amusing after everything that had just transpired between them. But that was part of what drew him to Yuri. He could be shy, bold, and everything in between, and Victor looked forward to exploring all those sides of him.

After packing up and making the short downhill walk, Yuri and Victor drove in comfortable silence. Yuri looked out the window, mind distant and dreamy, until he felt a pull on his left arm. Victor had reached over and taken his hand. It was as if he had read Yuri’s mind, as if he had sensed how much Yuri wanted to reach over and do the same. Their fingers slowly intertwined. Victor moved their hands up to his lips, kissing Yuri’s knuckles individually and smiling at him from the corner of his mouth. Yuri wanted that drive to last forever.

________________

When they arrived back at Yuri’s apartment, Victor walked Yuri to the door.

“I had a great time tonight,” Yuri said with his face half-covered by the bouquet that Victor had given him earlier. His words were sincere despite the fact that he was trying to conceal the full extent of his happiness. He tried not to smile too wide when Victor wrapped his arm around his shoulder, or when he brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen on Yuri’s face, or when he playfully said that Yuri was the tastiest pork cutlet bowl he’d ever laid eyes on. 

“I did too, really. I’m happy you’re letting me take you out again.”

Victor meant that too. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed a date that didn’t end with sex. He had grown so used to instant, physical gratification that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have fun _during_ the actual date instead of _after_ it. Admittedly, this was the most excitement Victor had felt about the prospect of the second date. The feeling was entirely new to him.

“Technically it’s my turn to take you out, remember?”

“Well, if you need date ideas, I’m a big fan of pirozhkis,” Victor joked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yuri chuckled. “Goodnight, Victor.”

“Goodnight, Yuri.”

Victor leaned over the bouquet for one last kiss, soft and warm. Waving to Yuri as he turned the corner of the hallway, Victor walked back to his car and drove home.

Yuri walked into his apartment and leaned his back against the closed door. He held both hands to his chest, feeling his heart drumming joy inside of him. He felt ridiculously happy, more so than he had felt in a long time. Yuri liked Victor, too much for comfort, but he didn’t mind. At that moment, he felt a flurry of emotions that made him feel so light, like he could float away at any moment. He couldn’t put the feeling into words.

It was a butterflies-in-your-stomach excitement.

It was a heart-pounding giddiness that could make him trip over himself and fall head over heels.

Yuri could feel the buzzing in his head, a mix of the wine and the heat that lingered on his lips. He needed to process everything. He needed to make sense of it, or at the very least set his dazed mind straight. He didn’t know what else to do, so he did what he knew best: he wrote.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe some of you noticed, but I referenced Lucycamui's fanfic "Be My Sex Coach, Victor" later in the chapter. 
> 
> Just FYI, even though Eros' writing may fall flat of his readers' expectations, Lucy's DOES NOT! The reference wasn't made to disparage her work in any way, so I hope none of you took it to mean that! In fact, you all should go read her fic if you haven't already! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I post a preview of the next chapter on my Tumblr page one week before releasing it, so if you're just as excited for this piece as I am, drop by!
> 
>  
> 
> <https://kinggeorgechan.tumblr.com>
> 
>  
> 
> Ask box always open! Let me know what you think, send prompts, make predictions! Hell, just drop by to chat because who doesn't love making online YOI friends?


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